


Hallways

by KeriArentikai



Series: Oh, The Places We'll Go [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Academia, Grad School AU, M/M, No Werewolves, Professor/Student (not creepy)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-02
Updated: 2012-12-02
Packaged: 2017-11-20 02:40:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/580381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KeriArentikai/pseuds/KeriArentikai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The five friends sat at a table in the student union building, laughing over their fast-food lunches.  </p><p>"Okay," said Jackson, "which prof would you bang?"</p><p>"Hale," Erica, Isaac and Stiles all said together.  No one was surprised at their answer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hallways

**Author's Note:**

> So, I haven't written fanfic in a while, and I've never written much smut, and I've DEFINITELY never written any slash smut before, so... yeah. Let me know if you find any errors or typos, those drive me nuts.

The five friends sat at a table in the student union building, laughing over their fast-food lunches. 

"Okay," said Jackson, "which prof would you bang?"

"Hale," Erica, Isaac and Stiles all said together. No one was surprised at their answer. He was one of the younger professors - Stiles was bad at judging ages, but he couldn't possibly be over forty - and he was undeniably gorgeous. 

"I'd do Morell," replied Jackson, before turning to his girlfriend expectantly.

"Peter," said Lydia firmly.

"What? Ew, that guy has to be sixty!" Erica said.

"And yet." Lydia arched her eyebrow.

As they walked back up to their offices in the History building, Stiles couldn't quite get the conversation out of his mind. He was sure it was a conversation all grad students had at some point, especially given how many rumours he'd heard about grad student-professor relationships. There weren't any in their department at the moment, as far as he knew, but he was pretty sure his advisor's wife had been a grad student when they started dating, and he'd heard about enough people who actually slept with their own advisor (which actually was pretty morally gross) that he couldn't quite feel bad about having a crush on a guy who studied a period two thousand years after his own. Stiles had never taken a class with Hale, nor would he ever.

Which just meant that his little crush wasn't wildly unethical - it sure didn't mean he took it seriously. At 23, he had dated his fair share. Girls, guys, serious, casual, one-night stands. That all seemed to have stopped when he got to grad school, though. He wasn't sure whether it was because he didn't really have time for dating, or if it was because the people he knew had almost all paired off into almost-engaged couples the first semester, or if it was just something about the stifling small-town atmosphere, or (and he rarely let himself think this, but sometimes it crept in) if he just wasn't very appealing, when it came down to it.

He'd seen Hale around the building, though. At lectures the whole department was 'encouraged' to attend, at department parties (at which Hale sometimes played the drums in the band made up of professors in the department), in the hallways. Stiles had never actually spoken to him; he mostly just tried his best not to act like a complete idiot in front of him and, of course, mostly failed. He had one of those stickers that the GLBT counselling group gave out to professors stuck on his door, but a bunch of professors had them - it just meant that they were supposed to be safe to talk to and supportive, not that they were gay themselves. But whenever Stiles saw him - gorgeous, serious, confident, with that rare but precious grin - he couldn't help his heart skipping a beat. Okay, not really, but the dude affected him.

Instead of working on his paper, he let his eyes drift off into space. Did Hale have a significant other? Stiles was pretty sure he wasn't married, but he couldn't see any reason why a guy like that wouldn't have people all over him all the time. It wasn't even just his looks - he was brilliant, doing research on 20th century Guatemalan history that was interesting and innovative (or so Stiles was told, anyway - he did ancient Greek history and what he knew about modern Latin America couldn't fill a thimble). And he just had this... charisma. His constant air of reserve made the moments when he seemed to let down his guard a little really special, and Stiles just knew that if he was ever able to make Hale grin - or, god, even laugh (dare to dream) - he'd feel pretty special, too.

He was jerked out of his reverie when Scott poked him in the shoulder. 

"Stiles, you coming to class?" 

Stiles gathered the stuff he needed for his seminar and left the office, and he hoped to leave behind his distraction, too. If only it was so easy.

***

When going to campus, Stiles usually dressed as professionally as he could - which often just entailed a blazer over a hoodie, but still. However, when Lydia decided the group was Going Out and took over Stiles' ability to make decisions about his appearance, he looked fairly different. While he was pretty lanky and slender, she found t-shirts that rode just a little bit too short and emphasized the muscles of his arms and chest (while he didn't have as much time to go to the gym as he did in undergrad, he tried to make time since it really helped with his stress levels). Today she had even managed to get him into skinny jeans and a bit of eyeliner, since they were going to the once-a-week 'rainbow' night at the dance club. Lydia and Allison loved to go, since it was the only time they could go to a club in this town without getting quasi-molested, Jackson liked it because he got hit on a lot, Scott liked it because Allison liked it, Isaac tried to pick up (and usually succeeded) and Stiles, well, he didn't mind getting a little tipsy and crazy on the dance floor. 

He was usually a bit worried about running into the students in the class he TAs for when he dresses like this, but he hadn't really thought about it the other way until he saw Hale walking down the street as their group was walking up it on their way to the club. He was with another of the younger professors - Lydia's advisor - so when she and Lydia stopped to chat for a few seconds, Stiles' cheeks burned. He tried to pretend he was listening attentively to what people were saying, but he imagined he could feel Hale's gaze on him (judgmental? interested? fascinated and repelled?) When they finally started to walk on, he flicked his eyes to Hale for the barest second, just in time to see his eyes move away.

Stiles didn't stay at the club long that night. He had a couple of drinks but couldn't get over his distraction. He took advantage of the fact that Lydia and Allison were going to be out for a while (if either of them even came home) to have the house to himself for a few hours. It was Hale's stare he was thinking about when he arched off his bed and came.

***

From that day on, it was like Hale was everywhere. First he started seeing him around town, which really wasn't that weird - he ran into other professors and students a lot, maybe it was just that he was noticing him more now (if that was even possible). At Trader Joe's, he saw him in a faded blue t-shirt and worn jeans, rather than his usual suit or formal shirt. Stiles walked into a freezer case. He saw Hale walking his dog, a huge husky, when he was coming back from crashing at Scott's after a party. Usually they exchanged the awkward we-know-each-other-but-not-really half smile and nod, but on that occasion Hale tensed his jaw and didn't meet his eyes. 

Then he started seeing him more in the office. Part of that wasn't coincidence - Stiles took to using the third floor bathroom rather than the first floor bathroom, and Hale's office was on the third floor. But it almost seemed like Hale was there more often, too, even late at night when usually it was only the grad students left. 

***

It was nearing the end of the semester, so Stiles was still at the office at midnight. Everyone else had gone home around 10:30, but it wasn't like he had anyone to go home to, so he figured he might as well soldier on. It was, he thought, a miscalculation to drink that third coffee on top of his Adderall. His hands were just slightly shaky when he raised the cup to his lips, so when he knocked his elbow the cup spilled. Not - thank god - on his computer or books, but all over his shirt and pants. He groaned. He grabbed the spare hoodie he kept in his desk and headed up to the bathroom.

When he got there, the coffee was cold and clammy on his skin. Without bothering to get into a stall (he was pretty sure he was the only one left in the building, after all), he stripped off his shirt and threw it in the sink, then unbuttoned and unzipped his pants. He had taken off his shoes and had just hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his pants to pull them down when the door opened.

Stiles turned wide honey-brown eyes to the door and froze.

"Fuck," said Hale. "What are you... Fuck." He looked stricken as he brought his hand up to brush through his hair, but he didn't move.

"Um," said Stiles. He couldn't think of much else. Hale wasn't leaving. He was just standing there. Looking at him. Looking at Stiles, who was still half-naked. Naked enough, he thought suddenly (with a certain amount of horror), that there wasn't much hiding the fact that his dick was taking an adrenaline-fueled interest in the proceedings.

Hale's eyes wandered down his body and, yes, he clearly noticed something was... up.

"Fuck," he said again, more softly this time.

Stiles really had no idea what to do in this situation. So without thinking about it, he just did what seemed like the next logical thing - his pants were still damp, so he pushed them the rest of the way down.

Hale took a step forward. Holy shit, was this really happening?

"Are you doing this on purpose?" Hale asked, with a tinge to his voice that could have been anger, or desire, or both.

"I, um, spilled..." Stiles, who was not exactly articulate at the best of times, was finding it very hard to think enough to put together sentences. Hale moved even closer. Moved right into his personal space. And... sniffed.

"Coffee," he said. "You smell like coffee."

"Yes."

"So, you didn't mean to get naked right next to my office?"

Stiles looked at him. Hale wasn't much taller than Stiles was, but his presence was huge and it felt like he needed to look up. Yes, Hale was teasing, but Stiles thought he saw an actual question in his eyes.

"I'm not complaining," he said firmly.

Hale made a little noise and leaned over. He opened his mouth, and dragged his tongue from Stiles' collarbone up his neck. Stiles squeaked and put a hand on Hale's waist to steady himself. 

When Stiles looked at his face, he was smiling. Oh, that smile. Stiles was done for. He grinned back and kissed him, softly at first, but soon he was pressed against the sink, feeling Hale's own erection against his thigh, as the kiss intensified.

Stiles moaned as he felt Hale's hand on his ass, pressing them together. 

"Stiles," Hale whispered in his ear, his voice intense. Hearing his name from Hale's lips surprised him - that Hale knew it in the first place and, oh, god, what was Stiles supposed to call him? The grad students usually just referred to their profs by their last names, and addressed them as Dr. or Prof. So-and-So, but 'Hale' seemed weird and 'Professor Hale' seemed creepy in this situation. Stiles did know his first name, and usually the grad students waited for a professor to ask them to call them by their first name, but really, wasn't Hale's hand inching down the back of his boxer-briefs doing just that?

"Derek," he whispered back, as he arched into him, wanting the hand to go further. He was disappointed, then, when Derek removed his hand altogether and backed up half a foot. They were both flushed and breathing hard as they stared at each other.

Stiles felt like he was teetering on the edge of ecstasy and misery as he waited for Derek to do or say something. Finally, as if he had to gather his courage or something, Derek asked: "My office?"

Stiles smiled, grabbed his discarded clothes from the floor and sink, and followed Derek to the room next door. He'd never been in Derek's office before; if he had, it probably would have fueled his fantasies for a while because - although this wasn't exactly unusual - there was a couch. Oh yeah, he could work with that.

Before Derek had really gotten his bearings, Stiles pushed him down on the couch and climbed onto his lap. Their lips met again and he felt two warm hands on his hips through his underwear, then one moved up his bare back to his neck. Derek, however, was still fully clothed. It seemed as if they both realized that at the same time, and in a flurry of movement, as if neither of them could spare a second, they were both completely naked and Stiles was back in Derek's lap. There was a moment of such overwhelming pleasure as his balls pressed down onto Derek's bare cock that he thought he might embarrass himself and come right then. By the sounds Derek was making, he wasn't too far off, either.

"I want to fuck you," said Derek, and the intensity in his voice made Stiles shiver. 

"Oh god, yes, please," seemed like the only reasonable response.

"... but I don't have anything." Derek finished.

"Shit. Well, next time..." He wasn't even sure what he was saying any more, as Derek's large, warm hand was inserting itself between their bodies as they rocked together. He touched Stiles gently at first, then pressed Stiles' dick against his own and moved them together. It was unbearably hot, along with all the other bodily contact and motion, and Stiles knew he wasn't going to last much longer. But when he felt Derek's other hand caress lightly between his cheeks and then, with his index finger, Derek firmly pressing at his entrance - not trying to go in, just... being there - he jerked and cried out and came. He was a bit distracted, but he heard Derek make a few noises and still for a second before continuing more slowly, riding out his own orgasm, smearing the come between them.

They slowed, and stopped, and Stiles put his head down on Derek's shoulder as he tried to catch his breath. Derek hadn't let go - Stiles could still feel his hand on his wet and softening dick and his other hand on his ass, but it no longer felt dangerously sexy as much as comforting, grounding.

After a minute, Derek raised his head and kissed him, soft and slow. 

"You know, I don't usually do this," Derek said, voice hoarse.

"What, sleep with students?" Stiles asked with a little laugh. When he felt Derek tense under him, he regretted it.

"I didn't think you did," Stiles said more softly.

"I just... you're always so... full of energy and... happy. I... like you." It sounded as if Derek found this hard to get out. Stiles took a moment to appreciate it.

"I like you too," he replied.

He felt Derek's smile on his lips.


End file.
